Thursday, January 8, 2009

Spooky time.

A while back I attempted to win a competition using only my natural given talent, spunk, and not a small amount of moxie. I lost, leaving me to ponder: what is moxie, and why did I feel that I needed to use it? So maybe I went out on a limb, but at least I learned from it- next time I won't attempt to stand on one leg the whole time. That was silly.
For once I'm not referencing any sort of scrappy, unsanctioned bicycle race, treacherous trail ride, or any sort of athletic masochism. I'm referring to that t-shirt competition I entered a while ago. The winning entry was cautious and conservative, including both bicycle imagery and the magazine's title. At least the shirt was printed on a dainty and dreary purple, the newest color of fast (white was the old one).

But I'm not sore about losing, as I have had ample practice failing at just about everything up until now. However I did receive a flattering comparison to the sorta-famous and totally weird-tastic frame builders, Spooky Bikes. As they are only sorta-famous, and as I tend to live in a weedy, candlelit hole (not unlike the Wissahickon's prayer hole), at first I didn't understand the association. Then I visited their website, where immediately it became obvious:

The same love for cycling, cartoon gore, and pastels coupled with a shared disdain for unicorns? Be still my heart, Spooky Bikes. As of yet I must swoon from afar, as the prohibitive price tag prevents me from owning one, no less the six to seven that I want.
As a dedicated follower of this blog you might wonder why I would bother to mention this revelation, as it really is quite petty and took place nearly a month ago. It's because while vacationing in Gainesville, I visited the best bike shop in Florida, and was lent a mountain bike to take up to San Felasco. It happened to be a purple (re:fast) rainbow-sparkled Spooky Darkside, and after riding it my gooey bicycle-company crush set like a gelatinous dessert parfait.

Sadly, the inability to afford a 75$ jersey makes purchasing an 850$ frame a foggy and distant fantasy, complete with headless galloping unicorns (it is a fantasy, after all ). Fortunately I read my 2009 astrological guide in the free paper, and I vaguely remember a mentioning of '09 being the year of the glittery object.

Happy riding.